The Governess Chronicles
by Chloris
Summary: The tales of the many governesses it took to civilize Elizabeth Swann.
1. 1 Miss Samson

Elizabeth Swann was, at one time, what one would politely call a wilful, spirited, or lively child. Those who did not feel compelled to be polite would call her spoiled, wild, and on occasion mad. Her father, Governor Weatherby Swann, knew this. He had accepted the position of Governor of Jamaica partly because of it.

He had been advised by various well-intentioned women of his acquaintance that sometimes a change of scene, even just the change from town to country, could be positive for a child like Elizabeth. They had hundreds of success stories to tell, as well as many veiled warnings about motherless children. Generally when they reached this point in their advice, the Governor would suddenly remember a very important meeting with a very important person and have the butler escort them to the door.

The Governor knew that the women were right about some things, and assumed they were right about others because they were women and mothers themselves. However, the one thing he was sure they were wrong about was that his Elizabeth would like, or even need, a new mother. The late Mrs. Swann could never be replaced. He would just have to find another way of calming Elizabeth's wildness.

When they arrived in Port Royal months later, with the unexpected addition of the silent, serious boy whom their ship had rescued, Elizabeth had indeed seemed to settle down. She had been the one to spot the boy, Will Turner, floating along the starboard side of the ship and had called the alarm. She seemed to feel responsible for him.

While the boy stayed in their new mansion with them, Elizabeth had been bright and energetic, but in a very directed way. Her goal appeared to be to break through Will's unhappiness and make him smile. She did everything she could to make it happen but, thanks to the boy's shyness, she limited herself to a quieter kind of liveliness.

At first, Governor Swann had thought that the boy might be the key to calming Elizabeth's spirit. Unfortunately, it was brought to his attention by several of the more prominent members of Port Royal society that adopting an unknown orphan boy, who, for all he knew, could have grown up in the slums of London, was quite unacceptable. He had proposed giving the boy work in the mansion somewhere, as a gardener, perhaps, or a kitchen boy, but had been told that his daughter was already far too familiar with the boy as it was. If the friendship should continue… The dire threats and predictions were never spoken aloud; it was clearly too horrible an idea to mention.

So the boy had been apprenticed to a blacksmith. Even this had been considered to be too generous, but the Governor would hear nothing of it. He could not imagine throwing a child, especially one so close to his Elizabeth, onto the streets.

Once the boy had gone, life returned to its regular schedule: meeting with important people, dragging an adventurous, sulking, or furious Elizabeth from tea party to tea party, and subtly thanking the servants for their patience with the little mistress.

This was how Elizabeth and her father came to be in the parlour of one of Port Royal's more respectable families on the day Elizabeth's freedom came to an end. During this visit with Colonel and Mrs. Hughes, Governor Swann learned of the perfect solution to the problem of his wayward daughter. A governess.

The first was Miss Samson. She was a plain-faced, chubby young-woman with a mother and two siblings to support in town. She was also highly recommended by the Hughes family. After hiring her, it occurred to the Governor that if Miss Samson was really the wonderful governess Mrs. Hughes said she was, the Hughes should not have been getting rid o her. Once he had thought of that, he had written to Mrs. Hughes at once.

It turned out to be a matter of what Mrs. Hughes called "inappropriate relations" with one of the menservants. Mrs. Hughes assured Governor Swann that all of that was done with, but that she wanted to avoid contaminating the mind of her frail and delicate daughter Alice. Such a lively girl as Elizabeth, she was sure, would suffer no ill effects.

For a few weeks, this seemed to be the case. The Governor's mansion no longer echoed with the shrieks and scoldings of housemaids or the ominous silence of plots being laid. These were now confined to Elizabeth's schoolroom, one of the smaller studies. In the corridor outside this room, one could frequently hear whining, shouting, and arguing.

The Governor was told in his weekly interviews with Miss Samson that Elizabeth was stubborn in math lessons, hopeless with a needle and thread, and positively infuriating during her etiquette instruction.

The daily outings Elizabeth was supposed to take, according to Miss Samson's schedule, rarely ended where they were supposed to. Elizabeth simply could not ignore the call of the beaches, the trees, and most of all, Will. She developed a frighteningly convincing talent for lying. Miss Samson, however, was quick to catch on, and in the first two months, Elizabeth never truly managed to escape.

On the whole, Governor Swann was rather pleased.

However, the day before what would have marked the beginning of Miss Samson's third month as Elizabeth's governess, Miss Samson burst into the Governor's study. Her clothes were rumpled and her face was screwed up in an expression of mixed fury and hysteria.

"Governor, I resign!" she shrieked. "I have had it with that creature! She is like no child I have ever known! I refuse to stay a moment longer!" Then she burst into tears, for what might have been a second or third time that day.

The Governor jumped to his feet, stunned and frightened. "Miss Samson! Calm yourself, please. What has happened? Where is Elizabeth?"

Miss Samson collapsed into a straight-backed chair, panting. "I took her out for her outing," said the governess.

This was not the reassuring answer Governor Swann was hoping for. He could not hear any of the commotion that usually followed his daughter wherever she went. "Where is she, Miss Samson?"

The governess gasped, "Locked in her room sir, and I suggest that she stay there. The trouble she has caused me! The danger she put us both in! Governor, I am not certain she should be allowed outside the grounds."

On hearing that Elizabeth was, in fact, safely in her room, the Governor had a little more pity for the dishevelled Miss Samson. He rung the bell for his manservant. "Thomas," he said, once the man appeared, "please fetch a glass of water for Miss Samson, and send one of the maids to Miss Elizabeth's room with the same."

Once Thomas had gone, the Governor resumed his seat behind his desk. "Now, Miss Samson," he began, "you have given me quite a start. Suppose you tell me what happened."

And so she began. "_Well_, we were just setting out for our afternoon outing. That was more than an hour ago now, sir. The little beast just suddenly pulled out of my hand! She has tried to escape before, but never so balantly, nor in so public a place. She just ran off, weaving in between all the carriages, to the other side of the street."

"I followed her, of course. I'd be failing in my duties if I hadn't. She scampered down all sorts of filthy lanes. She lead me straight to the docks, sir. She could have been crushed or kidnapped! And as for me, I have never been so manhandled in my life! It was an outrage! There is no baser form of life than a sailor, sir. Your daughter put both of us in grave danger."

She paused here. When she next spoke, her tone was acidic. "I don't suppose _she_ had any trouble, sir. She seemed _quite_ familiar with some of them. No, the little minx left _me_ to their mercy." Miss Samson's face was flushing as she spoke.

Thomas arrived with her glass of water, which she gulped down, all thoughts of demonstrating lady-like qualities gone. Once she was finished, she continued.

"I assure you, sir, I will never follow your daughter again. When I finally escaped from those scoundrels, I had lost sight of her. I was near frantic with worry, but I was reminded of a story the housemaids told me, about a blacksmith's apprentice with whom your daughter has some sort of connection. I went by the smith's, and sure enough, what do I find but the governor's daughter, Miss Elizabeth Swann, kneeling on the dirt floor examining a fine array of swords and daggers! I won't stand for it, Governor Swann. I am giving you my notice, I leave in the morning."

The Governor nodded distractedly. He sent Miss Samson back to her room to pack and went to see his daughter. When he knocked on the door of her room, he was met with a snarl of "Go _away_, Nellie! I don't want your stupid water, I want to see Will!" He was also shocked to hear a stiffled sob. He had thought Elizabeth had gotten over her saddness at Will's leaving.

"Elizabeth," he called through the door. "I just want to know what happened today. Miss Samson seemed to think you could have hurt yourself." He opened the door and found Elizabeth with her head pressed into the quilt of her bed. He sat down beside her and said, "Lizzy, please tell me what happened."

Though he said it like a request, Elizabeth knew it was an order. She sat up and wiped her eyes. "I just missed Will so much! I kept asking Miss Samson if we could go see him just once on one of those stupid outings, but she said no! She said smiths weren't acceptable company for a young lady.

"We got so close to the smith's today," she said, casting her eyes down. "I couldn't just walk by. I _had_ to see him. So I asked again, but she still said no. So I ran. I wouldn't have run if she'd just let me go and say hello!"

The Governor sighed and put his arm around her shoulders. "That's not a good enough reason Lizzy. If you had come and asked me, I might have arranged for Will to come and see us here, maybe as a Sunday treat. But you can't go galavanting off through the docks. Do you have any idea what happened to Miss Samson there?"

Elizabeth stared at him, looking very annoyed. "Yes. One of the sailors warned her to stay out of the way of the others while they were rolling barrels onto the ship. She didn't listen, so he grabbed her hand. It's too bad he did, because she might've been run over by one of the barrels if he hadn't."

Governor Swann glared down at her. "Lizzy, you mustn't say things like that."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Alright. _Luckily_, the sailor saved her from a conveniently timed death. She thought he was attacking her though. She started stuggling and squawking and some of the other sailors were laughing and making strange jokes about Miss Samson and the sailor, but she pulled away from him just then." Elizabeth shrugged. "I kept running."

* * *

Miss Samson left the house the next day with her wages and a letter of glowing recommendation from Governor Swann himself. The letter explained the wayward nature of her (unnamed) charge and exulted her patience and capability.

However, Miss Samson's unfortunate adventure preyed on the Governor's mind. He confined his daughter to the house, resigned to the tantrums to come, and set about looking for another more capable governess.

Within a fortnight, one Miss Roach was comfortably installed in the Governor's mansion.

* * *

**A/N** Yay! My first chaptered fic has begun! Thank you to the wonderful Nytd, who beta-ed this for me. I'm wokring on the second chapter now, and I will hopefully have that up in a week or two. Thanks for reading!

P.S. Creative criticism is HUGELY appreciated.


	2. 2 Miss Roach

Governor Swann had been immensely reassured when he had first looked at Miss Roach's references. The letters spoke glowingly of her, praising the decorum, respect, and humility she had created in various pupils. Here was a woman who knew how to deal with children. Elizabeth should pose her no trouble at all.

When Miss Roach arrived in Port Royal, the Governor experienced a fleeting sense of doubt. She did not look at all maternal or even friendly. She was a glowering thunder-cloud of a woman, dressed in black in the hot Jamaican sunshine. He had thought that she might be in mourning, but he was too polite to ask, and in any case, if he had asked he would not have received an answer. Miss Roach liked to think she could instil some manners in her employers as well as their children.

When Miss Roach was introduced to Elizabeth, she attempted to smile. It looked rather foreboding, especially to Elizabeth, who was still sulking about her confinement to the mansion. She had not seen Will in nearly three weeks. What must he think of her, staying away for so long! This governess person, because you surely couldn't call her a lady, did not look likely to understand the need to continue friendships. She didn't look like she would know what a friendship was.

There was more truth in this than either the governor or Elizabeth could imagine.

While Miss Samson had been her governess, Elizabeth had been confined to the first schedule she had ever known that included more than meals and naps. There had been lesson time and exercise time. It had been loose, but to Elizabeth it had been incredibly limiting. It was nothing to Miss Roach's agenda.

Miss Roach believed that nothing could straighten a child, especially a girl, out better than strict regimentation of their daily activities. She explained this to the Governor, along with the fact that at first this schedule would prevent him from seeing much of his daughter.

"She will have to settle in," said Miss Roach. "Once she is settled, she may be rewarded by visits with you and perhaps some young ladies of equal standing."

Governor Swann was uneasy about it, but she was a governess and therefore knew more about children than he did. Besides, one of the things his well-meaning visitors always told him was that routine was the key to calm. Perhaps they were right.

So, Elizabeth found herself being shaken out of bed at seven o'clock every morning, dressing, eating breakfast, and reciting a psalm before even being allowed to leave her room. Once that was done, she was virtually marched to the schoolroom being critiqued on her posture, her carriage, her clothes. New "proper" frocks were ordered, stiff, straight-backed chairs placed in the study, and a series of increasingly heavy books were balanced on her head while she strode from one side of the room to the other.

After this strange process, she was sat at a desk with a pen and made to copy out the alphabet until, in a few weeks, Miss Roach was satisfied that she knew her letters, and set her to writing invitations for parties and visits that never took place. Next, she was given an embroidery sampler, and, on learning that Elizabeth had never actually threaded a needle by herself, Miss Roach increased their time for needle work from one hour to two. Occasionally, there was a history lesson, but it was only the history of England and none of it to do with wars, or adventures, or pirates either. Not even Sir Francis Drake himself was allowed in Miss Roach's schoolroom.

During the afternoon, Elizabeth would be swathed in shawls and installed in the shade of a parasol carried by one of the maids. In this perpetual shadow, she would be marched around the grounds for a few minutes before returning indoors for lunch, during which Miss Roach would lament the state of her table manners and let the soup get cold while going on about the proper length of grace and the civilized way to sip one's tea. After this they would return to the schoolroom to repeat the morning's activities until supper.

Aside from not seeing Will, Elizabeth hated the parasol and the shawls the most of any other part of the day. She did not see the great evil in getting a bit hot, or in running about to cool down. She did not care if she got sunburned, and even less if she got a few more freckles. Miss Roach, however, said that freckles made one ugly and that heat was the cause of nearly every illness Elizabeth could imagine.

The only time Elizabeth had to herself was half an hour in the evening when Miss Roach went to eat her supper in her rooms. Proper governesses, it seemed, did not presume to eat with the family, despite the fact that on her first night in the house Elizabeth, in her ignorance, had invited her to do just that.

After two weeks, it became apparent to Elizabeth that there would be no escaping Miss Roach. She was never left alone long enough to slip out the door and Miss Roach, having heard about Elizabeth's escapade with Miss Samson, kept a firm grip on her arm when they took their stroll through the grounds. After four weeks, she realized that she was unlikely to see Will for some time, since Miss Roach was scandalized that Elizabeth even knew the name of a blacksmith's apprentice, let alone wished to consort with one. Elizabeth probably never be allowed to read any of her pirate books again, as Miss Roach had locked them away in the attic, saying that such books ought to be burned, except that it was not civilized to destroy the written word.

When it got to the point where she missed even the company of priggish Ruth Willis, Elizabeth felt like she would explode like a spiked cannon.

Then, on the fifth week of Miss Roach's employment, Elizabeth's embroidery sampler was discovered covered with skulls and crossed bones and cutlasses. She was sent to her room in disgrace for this, with the task of unpicking every stitch in the fabric and starting a pattern of forget-me-nots. While she plucked at the thread of a cutlass, Elizabeth imagined the pirate ship she had seen when she had first met Will. The ship sailed into Port Royal, the pirates swarmed through the streets, and the gates of the Governor's manor opened as they ran up the drive. They rushed into the house and dragged Miss Roach out by her frizzy grey hair. They let go of her out on the lawn and chased her into the jungle. Then they sailed away again, with Will and Elizabeth as cabin boy and girl, and Elizabeth embroidered skulls and crossed bones, to everyone's delight, on flags and blankets and jackets and…

Elizabeth did not get supper that night, as she had stopped unpicking her piratical stitches and had begun stitching more of them on her favourite pillow-slip.

Little rebellions like the embroidery incident continued for the next two weeks. Embroidered vines continued to weave themselves in the shapes of ships and swords. The books Elizabeth balanced on her head mysteriously changed from treatises on etiquette to histories of the Caribbean and journals of famous explorers. The drab new frocks were routinely abandoned for old, colourful ones.

During those weeks, Miss Roach's temper began to fray, making her snappish and quick to criticize anything Elizabeth did. Elizabeth got fewer meals and more time locked in her room because of it. In some ways, this was good, because it gave her time to imagine more gruesome fates for Miss Roach and happier, more adventurous reunions with Will. But Elizabeth's imagination could only take her so far. Soon she was pacing around her room like a wild animal. She could not stop frustrating Miss Roach's plans, but neither could she see herself spending much more time in her room.

Then came the fateful day, sometime near the end of Miss Roach's second month, when Elizabeth snapped.

Miss Roach had taken to penciling designs onto Elizabeth's samplers instead of letting her create her own. That particular day, the design was violets and some innocous saying. Elizabeth squinted in the the dim light of the schoolroom, trying to make out the curly, narrow words. It seemed to be something to do with good, quiet girls staying home to help their mothers.

There really was notthing in particular about that moment that set Elizabeth off. It just seemed to her as though one minute she was holding the sampler in her hands and the next, she was standing by the fire – always lit, as per Miss Roach's instructions -, empty-handed, watching as the centre of the sampler dropped onto the burning logs and caught fire.

"What have you done?" shrieked Miss Roach, surging out of her chair with madness in her eye. It seemed she had snapped as well.

* * *

Governor Swann was shocked a few moments later when Tom came stumbling into his study without knocking or bowing. His face was covered with angry red scratches, like those made by the claws of an animal and he began speaking almost at once. "…Miss Elizabeth…" was all the Governor heard before he was racing out of his study towards Elizabeth's room.

When he got there, his fear increased; Elizabeth was in her room, but she was _crying_.

"Elizabeth! What's happened? Are you hurt, darling? What's wrong?"

"Miss Roach tried to hit me!" came choked answer. "I r-ran, but she caught me. If Nellie hadn't been there, she w-would've - ". Here Elizabeth started sobbing again. It was the work of a second for Governor Swann to open her door and gather her into his arms as he hadn't done since she was very small. She curled up in his lap and cried for a long time. Perhaps ten minutes later, the governor looked down to find his daughter asleep in his arms.

* * *

The next morning Miss Roach was conveyed to an inn in town, there to await the next sailing to the American colonies, where it seemed her methods of dicipline might be more acceptable or at least less necessary.

Elizabeth was left to her own devices for a few weeks, during which time Will was invited to the mansion for tea every Sunday and Elizabeth renewed her dislike of Ruth Willis.

The governor sent out another advertisement for a governess, this time specifying that "a kind, gentle disposition" would be prefered. He read the letters he received on this subject aloud to Elizabeth in the evenings.

In this way, a letter was written to a Miss Cartwright inviting her to take the position. The letter was signed "Yours truly, Governor Swann and your future pupil".

* * *

**A/N** Sorry for the lateness! This chapter was virtually impossible to write. I also want to apologize for any errors in this chapter: I was too impatient to get it beta-ed. Incidentally, I would be eternally grateful if you point out any problems so I can fix them!

Thanks again for all your awesome reviews! I'll try to get the next chapter up faster. :)


	3. 3 Miss Cartwright

When Miss Cartwright arrived, Governor Swann was sure he had chosen well this time. She was a plump, merry, young woman with a cloud of red hair nearly tamed in a chignon, and as soon as she had greeted the governor, she turned to Elizabeth with an enormous and genuine smile. "Well, miss," she said, in a voice that suggested talking to young children, "I hope you and I will get along well, don't you?"

Elizabeth said, quite honestly, that she did. She also invited Miss Cartwright to dine with them that night. Unlike Miss Roach, who still haunted Elizabeth's nightmares on occasion, Miss Cartwright accepted, claiming that it would be an honour to dine with such a wonderful young lady and her distinguished father. Both the Swanns puffed up a bit at this and were immediately disposed to like her.

Miss Cartwright did not disappoint them, or at least not to the degree that Miss Roach had. She was fond of Elizabeth from the start, as she was just a little older than her favourite sister. Because she came from a large family where she had helped raise her siblings, she knew how to talk to children and make them listen to her. She was shocked at the stories leaked to her by the servants and Elizabeth about how Miss Roach had behaved. She got rid of the grey dresses, tucked the etiquette books away in a dusty corner and said that she thought Elizabeth's pirate games were enchanting.

This was the only point on which Elizabeth was disappointed; she resented being chuckled at, which Miss Cartwright did frequently when Elizabeth was telling stories, and she was disliked being treated as though she were younger than she really was. She also disliked sewing and getting cleaned up for meals and visits, but Miss Cartwright dealt with that. She simply told Elizabeth that if she was ever bored, she should tell her governess and learn to sew, and that if she truly wished to go to the Hughes' tea party looking like a little Carrib, she could. She just shouldn't expect to be let in the door, let alone be given any tea.

On the whole, though, Elizabeth was satisfied. Miss Cartwright took her into Port Royal in the carriage to buy cloth for some new dresses, as she was starting to out-grow her old ones. They even stopped in to the blacksmith's (secretly, since Elizabeth still wasn't really supposed to see Will except on Sundays, and then only for tea). When they left, soon after arriving because Will was working, Miss Cartwright told Elizabeth that she thought him a remarkably good young man.

She had sighed then, leaned forwards and said, in a tone quite different to her usual babyish one, "You mustn't tell your father that I said this, but if you were my own sister, Miss, I should tell you to hang on to that one. He's a fine boy, Miss Elizabeth, and you don't find many of those in life."

* * *

The next seven or so months passed in relative peace. Miss Cartwright outlasted both Miss Samson and Miss Roach, and succeeded in teaching Elizabeth how to sew, by contending that no proper pirate crew would want a ship's girl who could embroider (badly), but not hem a sheet or mend a rip in everyday clothing. She continued to treat Elizabeth as though she were six, which, as Elizabeth had just turned twelve was becoming more of a problem, but one that she could put up with.

The Governor was pleased, Miss Cartwright was pleased, and Elizabeth was pleased. Mostly. The only problem was that the more parties Elizabeth went to (and they were becoming more and more frequent), the more concerned mothers and friends suggested that Will be dropped from her list of acquaintances. This infuriated Elizabeth, though in a quieter way than it would have a year before. She loved Will very much ("Not like that Ruth, you horrid little creature!") and she would hear not a word against him. She began to develop a list of Will's sterling qualities to rhyme off whenever a mother spoke to her about him.

The list went something like this: "Oh, but Mrs. Davidson, Will is the best person I know! He's very kind, and gentlemanly too. He pulls out my chair for me at tea, and he uses his napkin, and he always bows before he says hello. And he's going to be a blacksmith and make swords for the Navy. He's _wonderful_."

It need hardly be said that Mrs. Davidson, as well as the many other women this speech was addressed to, merely smiled and patted Elizabeth's hand and said something to the effect of, "Dear Miss Swann. Always such a kind, generous-hearted girl. I'm afraid that, though I am sure he is a good boy in his own way, Mr. Turner is not of your class. Perhaps you could be friends with my John."

After this unsatisfactory answer, the John, or Henry, or Walter, who had been suggested as Will's replacement would be called forward and would take her off to the nursery or the gardens, and sullenly attempt to amuse her for their mothers' sake.

Governor Swann, hands full with trying to control the smuggling and piracy that abounded on the outer-edges of his colony, began to reconsider his invitation to let Will come to tea. He did not regret taking the boy in or paying for his apprenticeship: the boy was making good progress, as could be seen in the brooch he had sent to Elizabeth for her last birthday and the small knife he had presented to the governor on the anniversary of his rescue from the shipwreck. He was, as the governor had said before, a fine boy. But what the society mothers were saying was true as well; he was not on the same level as Elizabeth.

So there came a Sunday when Elizabeth, horribly confused, was called to her father's study to hear the awful news. She was not to have Will to tea again. She might call on him only if she was actually on the street where Mr. Brown's shop was, and only then if she had come that way on the way to somewhere else. She was not to visit him on purpose ever again.

* * *

Elizabeth's retaliation to this news was to lock herself in her room, tear the shawl the Davidsons had given her for her birthday, throw it in the fire, and burst into tears. She could not see any reasonable excuse for forbidding her to meet Will.

She didn't allow herself to cry for very long, however. Soon she sat on the floor by her bed sniffling and wiping her eyes. The heroines in the stories Miss Cartwright told her and the ones in the stories she made up herself didn't just sit around crying. She lifted herself onto her knees and shuffled over to the little table beside her bed, which had been in the mansion when she and her father arrived nearly a year ago. She had discovered, quite by accident, that the top drawer of the table had a false bottom. Now, she opened the drawer and pressed the hidden switch. The bottom popped up and Elizabeth drew out the medallion she had taken from Will in the first few minutes of their acquaintance.

When she had taken it, Elizabeth had thought she was saving Will from a hanging. She still partly believed it, but some of Miss Roach's fire and brimstone and some of Miss Cartwright's kindness had changed her thinking. She had had a few nightmares where Will ripped the medallion from her hands and pushed her away. He had been angry with her then.

She thought about returning it, but how could she do that if she were never allowed to see Will again? She wouldn't have anything to remember him by. This thought made her cry a little more, but she stopped quite suddenly. The breeze blowing past the curtains on her window was brushing her wet cheeks. Elizabeth squeezed the medallion one last time, put it back in the secret drawer –because it was too precious to risk losing - and wiped her eyes determinedly. The window was open.

* * *

In the following months it became understood that every Sunday Miss Elizabeth would retire to her room after tea for a nap. To people who knew her, like Governor Swann, his manservant Thomas, and the maid Nellie, this seemed a bit odd. But after three weeks, during which each of them looked in on her once or twice and saw a soundly sleeping lump in the bed topped by a mass of tangled, fair hair, they accepted that she had simply changed her ways.

For Elizabeth, these days passed much more agreeably than the days of the past six months. She had tested her plan by climbing out of the window and roaming through the gardens. She did this for several weeks while she worked on her plan for getting into town unnoticed. She had also perfected the art of piling pillows underneath her quilt and topping it with her old doll Alice. Alice had hair almost the same colour as Elizabeth's and nearly as much hair too.

It wasn't until four weeks had gone by that Elizabeth pulled on her plainest dress, slipped out the window, and headed into town. This very quickly became her Sunday ritual.

Even though her visits made Will nervous, because he knew they were not supposed to be friends anymore, he enjoyed them as much as she did. He introduced her to Mr. and Mrs. Brown once, and she got to see all the things Will made. He tried to show her just the lady-like things, but there weren't many of those. She asked to see the swords that Mr. Brown made and the ones that Will had tried to make. She saw the hinges and nails that Will made by himself and even tried to get him to teach her how to make them. He refused, but only the first few times. After Elizabeth had thoroughly explored the blacksmith's shop, they usually went for a walk through the market or down by the docks.

Things continued like this for months. The rainy season made it hard for anyone to get around without getting obviously soaked. Mere weather, however, could not deter Elizabeth Swann. She made her "naps" a little longer, her visits a little shorter, and began to wash her hair when she arrived back home.

With most of her restlessness channelled into engineering her weekly escapes, Elizabeth became slightly easier for Miss Cartwright to teach each day, and she began to develop some accomplishments. She could embroider, sing passably well, and recite a few lines of poetry (mostly nautical poetry, but at least there was no more talk of becoming a pirate, thought her father).

Some of the men coming to the smith's to pick up new door hinges or buy a packet of nails teased Will about his "young lass" as they called Elizabeth. None of them knew who she was and none of them cared. What was one sunny little girl, more or less?

Elizabeth was thrilled with her plan's success, but there came a day when Will was not waiting for her in the smithy as he usually did. Everything was quiet. She went to the door of the house where Will lived with the Browns and knocked. She waited for what seemed like ages and was just about to go back to the smithy to see whether Will was there now, when he finally opened the door.

When he saw who it was, he stuck his head out the door, keeping it mostly closed. "I can't come out with you today, Miss Swann."

Elizabeth scowled. "I told you not to call me Miss Swann, Will. Why can't you come?"

Will sighed. He looked very tired, Elizabeth noticed. Tired and sad. He looked over his shoulder, back through the door. "Mrs. Brown…" he started. "She's…she's sick. No one knows what it is, but she's getting worse. I _have_ to help Mr. Brown look after her." He seemed so worried that Elizabeth was about to ask what she could do to help when there came a shout from indoors.

"William! William, fetch the apothecary! Hurry boy!"

Elizabeth thought the voice sounded a bit like she remembered her father's sounding when he came to her after Miss Samson's story and Miss Roach's rage. Had she been older, she would have said it sounded panicked.

The shout had an immediate effect on Will. He was out the door, turning to close it almost before Mr. Brown finished talking. He whirled around to face Elizabeth and said forcefully, "Elizabeth, _go home_!" Before she could even move out of his way, he was halfway down the street.

It was clear that there was nothing to stay out for. Elizabeth wandered home slowly, feeling upset and worried for Will and Mr. and Mrs. Brown, sulky for missing out on her long anticipated afternoon, and guilty for sulking.

She was irritable and out of sorts for the rest of the day. She snapped at Miss Cartwright and one of the maids, spoke to her father as little as possible, and went to bed early. This was so unlike her that, by the end of the day, most of the household was speculating as to why the little mistress was being so tetchy on a Sunday, usually her favourite day of the week.

The speculation continued through the next week, as Elizabeth's mood changed from one of sulkiness to one of worry. The Carribean was known for its tropical diseases and not even a naïve, well brought up girl like Elizabeth could ignore the stories of strange maladies and illnesses. Could Mrs. Brown have one of these?

That Sunday brought the answer to her question. She slipped out as usual and hurried down to the smith's. She had only just turned the corner when she spotted the black ribbon tied clumsily to the front door. But she didn't believe it until Will opened the door. He was dressed all in black. Dusty black, to be sure, but black all the same. His eyes were red-rimmed and puffy from crying. When he saw her he looked for a moment as though he were going to close the door.

She ran to him, but he didn't say hello. He looked at her mournfully and said, "She died."

Elizabeth reached out to hug him and he let her. He did not, however, hug her back. They stood there for a moment, then he pulled away. "Mr. Brown's been drinking," he said quietly. "I need to look after him now. I…I don't think I'll be able to play with you anymore."

Elizabeth nodded. She wasn't quite sure what to think, except that Will was probably right; he sounded very grown up.

They stood in awkward silence until she flung her arms around him again. "Goodbye, then, Will," she whispered. "Only for now though. Mr. Brown will get better. Papa will invite you back home for dinner. You'll see."

Will shook his head a little and tried to smile. He pushed her away and bowed slightly. "Goodby Miss Swann." With that, he turned and went back into the house.

* * *

Elizabeth's adventures were not quite over. On her way home, she wandered through the market. Unluckily for her, one of the maids from the mansion was on her day off. While no one else had noticed another tanned little girl, the maid recognised the little mistress, and abandonning her beau, ran off to inform Nellie, who informed the housekeeper, who informed Governor Swann that his daughter was currently not in bed as he believed, but hanging about in the market place.

And so the deception was discovered. Alice the doll, the pile of pillows, and the open window were all revealed and Elizabeth was caught before she even set eyes on the front gate.

The governor, of course, was incensed. Think of the trouble she could have got into! What if she had been kidnapped? Or killed? How could he have known what had happened to her? Furious was too mild a word for what he felt. He fully intended to dismiss Miss Cartwright and keep Elizabeth locked in her room for a month at least. He had meant to impart all of this knowledge to his daughter when she was brought to his study, but by the time she arrived there, she was already teary-eyed. When he began his lecture she progressed to sniffles and by the time he had just begun to express quite how angry he was she was well and truly crying.

The poor governor could not really be expected to do anything more than what he did; he did not finish his lecture, nor did he ban his daughter from leaving the house, and nor did he fly into a rage. He simply sat down and, for the second time that year, pulled his daughter into his arms.

Out came the story of Mrs. Brown, her sudden illness, her untimely death, and Will's dismissal of Elizabeth. The only thing Elizabeth did not mention was Mr. Brown's drinking. She did not omit this to save Mr. Brown's reputation, but rather because she did not find it nearly as important as the other things.

After Elizabeth's story, Governor Swann found that he was not nearly as furious as he had thought. He called for Nellie to take Elizabeth to her room and called for Miss Cartwright. She had been the person to apprehend Elizabeth at the gates and was extremely upset. She held a damp lace handkerchief in her hand as she stood before the governor.

"Miss Cartwright," he began, "my daughter was left in your charge this last year or so. Almost solely in your charge."

The governess' usually cheery face, already serious, crumpled. "I apologize, Sir. I should have realised -"

The governor stopped her with a look. "Miss Cartwright, I believe that you will agree with me when I say that, in light of recent events, you cannot expect to maintain your position here."

Miss Cartwright sniffled into her handkerchief and nodded.

"But," said the governor. Miss Cartwright's head lifted slightly. "But, I believe Elizabeth is…unique in her wildness. We were all decieved. You are not the only person to blame.

"Therefore, I will be dismissing you, but you will have a reference and you may take a fortnight to find a new situation."

Miss Cartwright looked up at him with a shining face. "Oh Sir! Thank you, sir! Thank you!"

A week later, the day Miss Cartwright was to leave, she found an embroidered pillowslip outside her door. Roses curled elegantly, if a little haphazardly, around the edges and there appeared to be an oddly shaped pair of crossed vines in one corner beneath a particularly skeletal rose. A note pinned to the edge read "I'm sorry, E."

Miss Cartwright's last gift to Elizabeth was given not to her, however, but to her father. It was given in the form of a letter. That letter read,

"Dear Sir,

I feel that I cannot leave your house without knowing that Miss Elizabeth is well looked after. Therefore, I thought it appropriate to mention to you my dear friend Miss Emily Bisset. She is an excellent woman, much more experienced than myself as she has worked in a girls' school in England for several years. She has lately come to Jamaica and is currently looking for employment. She is staying at the address at which you first contacted me.

Please forgive me if I am too bold.

Yours truly,

Miss Cartwright"

* * *

**A/N** This is going to be the thank you note: thanks a million to Nytd, my brilliant, amazing beta, and thanks to everyone who reviewed: you have only yourselves to blame for this enormous chapter. Hopefully it turned out okay, despite the fact that it was mostly written incredibly late on school nights. Anyways, thanks again and crit is always appreciated!


	4. 4 Miss Bisset

Miss Emily Bisset was not at all what Governor Swann expected. Unlike Miss Cartwright, she was frail, a wisp of a woman. This impression was increased by the contrast of her light skin and hair against the black crepe of her dress and jet beads of her jewellery.

Elizabeth worried at first that she was a younger, prettier Miss Roach come to finish the job which the ugly old crone had failed to complete. However, after a few moments' conversation, her fears were quelled. Miss Bisset, it seemed, was in mourning for a very dear older brother. She had been very close to him and his death had distressed her so much that she found it impossible to stay in the town where they had grown up together. She did not say much more, since it would have been impolite and improper, but what she said was enough.

Elizabeth took to her like she had taken to Will. After the tea they had together, Elizabeth was determined that Miss Bisset would not only be her governess, but that she would forget her sadness and be happy again. She barely touched her tea or the biscuits she was offered, and this, to Elizabeth, spoke of work to be done.

For the next few weeks, Miss Bisset did not find herself struggling with the wilful, passionate girl she had been told to expect. Instead, she taught a willing, friendly child who would sit in her favourite chair and sew for hours so long as she had someone to talk to.

Elizabeth begged for stories of Miss Bisset's childhood, of her family, of the girls' school she had taught at. When she heard that her governess had not yet left the mansion to explore the town, she appealed to her father to let the two of them go out on a daily stroll. The governor was shocked when she accepted his condition that one of the groomsmen from the stables should accompany them. Perhaps, he thought, this was the end of the difficulties. Perhaps she had outgrown her wilfulness at last.

Miss Bisset, for her part, was quite willing to be led about Port Royal from one sight to the next by her young charge. Elizabeth showed her parks, markets and once, even took her near the docks, though not so near as she had taken Miss Samson. Henry the groomsman would occasionally intervene if they found themselves getting to close to the wharves.

Elizabeth tried to plan ever more interesting outings for her governess and, as Miss Bisset began studying history and literature with her, she even tried to relate the outings to what they read.

"Look," she said, pointing to a merchant ship being loaded down in the harbour. "Do you suppose Viola's ship could have looked like that, Miss Bisset?"

Miss Bisset chuckled. "If her ship had looked like that, Miss Elizabeth, I don't think it would have sunk in the storm. Then Shakespeare wouldn't have written _Twelfth Night_."

"That's true. But if it were a really terrible storm, a hurricane maybe- "

To Elizabeth's delight, Miss Bisset not only brightened up with these outings, she also began to take interest in ships and the sea, just as Elizabeth did. It turned out that she had grown up in Bristol, back in England. Her father had been a successful merchant, but after several stormy years, all but one of his ships had sunk. This last ship had been his final hope and he had decided to send his daughter to school and take his son with him to the East Indies. Though neither man returned, Miss Bisset knew more than might be considered proper about the sea and trade routes and all the interesting bits of maritime history.

For her fourteenth birthday, Miss Bisset presented Elizabeth with a copy of Captain Charles Johnson's _A General History of the Robberies and Murders of the most notorious Pyrates_, hidden beneath a book of Shakespeare's sonnets and a very short treatise on etiquette for young women. She promised that if Elizabeth could demonstrate all the politeness she possessed in the presence of her father and especially the wealthy women of Port Royal, then her embroidery lessons could be accompanied by stories of the deeds of Captains Kidd, Morgan and Vane, among others.

* * *

Eventually, Miss Bisset learned about Will. Her suspicions were probably raised when she realised that every stroll that took them by the blacksmith's workshop was drawn out a little longer than the rest. They never saw the smith himself, but once in a very long while Will would have time to come stand on the threshold and exchange polite, awkward inquiries about health and weather with Elizabeth.

Those conversations were not enough. On the walk home Elizabeth would think of a dozen things she had wanted to ask Will – was Mr. Brown better? Had Will learned how to twirl a sword like he always wanted? Did he know that there had been female pirates once? Had he ever heard of the Pirates' Code? She would often ask Miss Bisset instead and that was how the letter-writing started.

Miss Bisset had already been teaching her pupil "epistolary style," (that is, how to write letters). These were not the stiff invitations and thank-you cards that Miss Roach had drilled into her but polite correspondence between friends and family. However, there was one problem: Elizabeth had no one to practise on. She had no female relatives, either in the colonies or back in England and there was little point in writing to the other young ladies of Port Royal, since Elizabeth saw them if not daily then at least three times a week, and that was far too much already. She could not write to any of the young men she knew either, because that would cause a scandal.

Here was where Miss Bisset showed a surprisingly mischievous nature; she suggested that Elizabeth write to Will. He would likely be too busy to reply, so it would not, strictly speaking, be a correspondence, but if Elizabeth allowed her governess to read over her letters before they were sent, Miss Bisset could correct them and still truly be teaching Elizabeth.

For her part, Elizabeth thought this was a marvellous idea. Never before had any of her governesses _helped_ her get around her father's rules. She wrote her first letter at once, explaining the scheme and sent it with Henry, the groomsman her father had assigned as an escort for his daughter's daily walks. Henry returned with a message from Will: he was very busy and would not be able to reply, but he would be glad to assist in Elizabeth's education however he could. Elizabeth took it as a good sign.

The letters became Elizabeth's diary. She would write whatever she thought or felt. She never had to worry about saying too much, because Miss Bisset would quietly point out the passages that were inappropriate and the letters would be rewritten without them. However, more often than not, it was not the corrected letters that were delivered to the blacksmith's apprentice.

The more time Elizabeth spent writing letters or reading about pirates, the less time she spent running wild and acting up. Her impatience with Ruth Willis and her friends was taken out in pen and ink, rather than refused invitations and upset tea parties. She began to receive compliments and invitations from families who had previously been wary of her wildness. Slowly but surely, Elizabeth Swann was coming to be known as the quite the proper young woman.

There was another upside to the letters, which was that Will and Elizabeth never had to bumble through stiff, polite conversation. Will always had something to say about her letters, though he was always a little distant, polite and respectful like any tradesman speaking to a lady above his station. Elizabeth, for her part, could listen to him answer her questions and ask a few more before Miss Bisset and Henry, who would have wandered off to the market, would come back to collect her.

* * *

Things continued this way until Elizabeth turned seventeen. Three year's worth of letters to Will, three years of smiling at young ladies who had never heard of Calico Jack Rackham or Blackbeard and two years of balls and dashing naval officers.

It might be considered something of a miracle that Miss Bisset, in those three years, had changed completely. Her mourning weeds were gone, replaced by a happy smile and eventually a wedding ring, given to her by Henry. Elizabeth was overjoyed for them both, but everyone knows that once a governess marries, she must leave her place. It saddened Elizabeth that Miss Bisset was leaving, even if she would be happy. There would be no governesses after her; Elizabeth was too old for that. She would have to learn to spend time by herself again and learn how to behave at the Davidson's without Miss Bisset's quiet, stern presence at her side.

The letters to Will would be fewer now, since Henry had been elevated to the position of footman. He would not have time to run letters down to the smithy and Elizabeth wasn't sure she could trust the other servants not to tell her father. He still didn't know about the correspondence and would probably put a stop to it if he ever found out. So Elizabeth collected everything she wrote into packets which she could drop off when she passed the smith's with the other young women and their chaperones. It was difficult to get the letters to Will without the matronly chaperones seeing, but somehow Elizabeth managed.

Eventually, though, as the number of invitations to balls increased and as the duties of a governor's daughter began to take up more of her time Elizabeth wrote less and less. It occurred to her one day that she hadn't seen Will in months, nor had she delivered her small pile of letters. Unfortunately, what with Captain Norrington and the rest of the naval officers being in Port Royal on leave, it didn't seem as though she would have the chance to. She couldn't leave the letters to be discovered, though.

So one night, Elizabeth Swann tied a red ribbon around her letters to Will Turner and hid them in the secret drawer along with the medallion she took out and admired once in a while. That drawer held all her secrets and would, until one fateful night when the ghostly pirate ship she still saw in her dreams came to find what it had lost.

* * *

A/N: That's right, it's done. Finally. I am so sorry it took this long. On the off chance that any of my old reviewer are still reading this, thank you all so much for your support. Extra thanks due to the incredible Nytd who beta-ed this whole thing for me, being patient and marvellous. Big hugs to you all!


End file.
